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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441636">fake it til you make it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffroncassis/pseuds/saffroncassis'>saffroncassis</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyflowersbloom/pseuds/shyflowersbloom'>shyflowersbloom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fake Dating, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern AU, and they were roommates!, because keith might have a crush, college students, lil dose of angst, pidge is the mastermind behind all of this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:01:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffroncassis/pseuds/saffroncassis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyflowersbloom/pseuds/shyflowersbloom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Lance is struck with the sudden thought that this is romantic, incredibly romantic, like the type of place someone would want to go with their real partner. He’s been here a few times before but he’s never really thought about it the same way. He’d thought, oh, Keith would like that, because the glowing phytoplankton looked like stars and Keith loves space, but he’d never thought romantic. He’d never thought of Keith and romance in the same sentence before.</i><br/><i>But now he’s wondering if maybe he should have been.</i> </p><p>Broke college students, roommates, and friends. That’s all they are. Until Lance and Keith enter a contest and must trick a group of strangers into believing they’re actually a couple. It shouldn’t be <i>that</i> hard to fake it, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>292</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>concept behind this inspired by a Jubilee video <a href="https://youtu.be/wZ6zKtsN_WI"> "6 Couples vs 1 Fake" </a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lights, camera, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m Lance.” He shoots a grin, wide and bright at the lens staring back at him. He leans into the black director style chair, with an arm draped casually over the shoulders of the body tucked into his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance glances over to spy a small smile, is close enough to see the slight stiffness of it. He looks forward again in time to catch someone off set holding up their fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and they say in unison:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we are a couple.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>roomie: the elevators are out of order</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the text reads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance clumsily types out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kay thx</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his left hand, and places his phone back onto the top of his stack. He’s taken Pidge’s pizza box and her drink too so she can swipe the two of them through the double doors. “We’re gonna’ havta’ take the stairs,” he says as he slides inside the building before her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge makes a face. “Seriously? Weren’t your elevators down just last week?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry our peasant dorms aren’t as good as the honors engineering ones,” he chirps back, and leads her to the small building-wide kitchen in the lobby. Lance sets his stack down and pops one of the personal pans into the microwave, heating it up from their walk across campus in the autumn chill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You say ‘peasant dorms’ sarcastically but just try and tell me these pizzas aren’t going to get cold again by the time we climb </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven floors</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Pidge glares at him behind her glasses, but it’s hard to take her seriously when they’re all fogged up. Lance lifts his phone up to hide his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: pidgeon is with me btw</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: is it cool if she comes up we won’t bother you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just lazy,” Lance says, glancing up at her. “And it won’t take long enough for the pizzas to get cold.” The microwave dings and he replaces the cardboard box inside with the next one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m unathletic, not lazy. And since you’re so sure you can climb all the way up quickly you can carry mine too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piiiidge,” Lance whines. She raises an eyebrow. He goes back to his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>roomie: yea, im writing an essay but its fine</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: dont u wanna go to the library????</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>roomie: its cold and i havent been out all day</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>roomie: im not leaving unless i have to</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The microwave dings again and Lance makes a move to set his phone down, but Pidge waves him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: did you even have breakfast??????</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>roomie: i ate a pack of your fruit gummies</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance sighs out loud, types out </span>
  <em>
    <span>ill pick up poptarts tomorrow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and shoves his phone back into his pocket. Pidge is ready for him with the pizzas all stacked, drinks in hand. “Do I even want to know what that was about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Keith being Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re halfway up the stairs when Pidge pants out, “I take it back. You guys live worse than peasants. What’s wrong with your building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with our maintenance,” Lance calls back from four or five steps ahead of her. “What’s wrong with this whole university.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything,” she replies. “No fridges, no microwaves, no elevators.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, we have a fridge! We got it freshman year!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of pocket.” Pidge takes a moment to herself on the fourth floor landing. “And you still don’t have a microwave, which is why all your food is cold by the time you climb up to your room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance thinks she’s had a long enough time to rest. He starts climbing again. “It’s a luxury we can’t afford. Not everyone can work during the school year, y’know, or have a paid internship </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> only three classes a semester.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only have three classes </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> semester because my advisor wouldn’t let a sophomore take more with the internship. I barely do anything there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Lance calls down, now an entire flight of stairs above her. It echoes slightly and Pidge looks very close to snarling. Lance climbs the rest of the stairs two steps at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This college is trying to kill you,” Pidge says the moment Lance opens his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi,” Keith responds. The room is dark and he’s hunched over his desk, still in sweats. His eyes are big and dark with surprise, and he has messy hair framing his cheeks. Lance feels a wash of affection for his roommate, even if he did eat the last pack of fruit chews.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gremlin says hi back,” Lance intones, placing the stack of food on top of their mini fridge, and passing around the food and drinks. Pidge thanks him for hers by kicking him in the shin. He yelps with dignity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you,” Keith says when Lance hands him his, which isn’t much of a thanks either, but he’s eyeing the box like a dragon would precious gems so Lance lets it slide. It is sort of concerning considering it’s because he hasn’t eaten all day though. Lance tried to enforce three meals a day on him back in their first year and failed, so now he just brings the other food whenever he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, cold,” Pidge says, and he looks over to find her holding a slice with a grimace on her face. “I told you so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like cold pizza,” Keith says, and proceeds to absolutely inhale his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance notes that his pizza has also gone from steaming to lukewarm. “Fine, you win this round, Pidgeon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t even be happy about this. Seriously, can you guys please go get yourselves a microwave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re broke, buddy,” Lance says, taking a bite of his slice. “Unless you have some sort of get rich quick scheme there’s not gonna be a microwave in the McClain-Kogane household.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kogane-McClain,” Keith tries to correct, and Lance is somewhat proud of himself for deciphering that even when the other has his mouth full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I might have something,” Pidge says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance swallows his bite. “Oh, straight up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys would be perfect, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, you can leave me out of it,” Keith says. He probably deciphered something suspicious in her tone. Lance pays it no heed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge doesn’t miss a beat. “So my internship, right? We’re casting right now for a versus video.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance thinks if his jaw dropped any further it’d hit the floor. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re kidding me, right? Those things get millions of views!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge shrugs, but it’s clear now she’s trying not to smile. “I can’t guarantee anything but you’d be so great for this one, I don’t know how they’d say no.” She shifts to address Keith. “And sorry, but this is kind of a package deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance immediately rounds on Keith. “Please,” he says, and summons up his foolproof puppy eyes, patented from years of being the youngest sibling. “Keith, come on buddy, this is like a once in a lifetime chance! Pretty please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith slumps to his desk, arms forming a guard around his face. “Uhhhgg. Lance, don’t start with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it working? Please, please, pleeaaasee, Keith, my favorite roommate, my favorite person, the apple of my eye and the sunshine of my life? ” Lance leans forward, lays it on thickly, and can already see how close victory is in the hunching of Keith’s shoulders. “Pidge, what’s the video about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wipes her fingers with a napkin, the only remaining traces of her first slice of pizza. “I should probably have you guys sign NDAs or something before I do this, but— and I hate to admit this— I trust you guys enough to not tell the whole internet. It’s a bunch of real couples versus one fake couple, so basically you have to answer questions and stuff to make everyone think you’re legit. If you fool everyone, then you win the prize money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance has been following up until now but this… this takes a bit longer to process. “Huh,” he says. “So, you want us to, like, pretend to be a couple, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it shouldn’t be hard for you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I….” Lance bites the inside of his cheek. “Are you gonna’, I dunno’, explain that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know,” Pidge says with extreme nonchalance. “You live together so you’re practically halfway married already, and all that. You should do it. I bet you could win. The prize is a thousand dollars, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this, Lance and Keith’s eyes lock. And for a wild second, they consider. Weigh cost and reward. Lance can see the contemplation work its way onto Keith’s face, from the furrowed brows to the pursed lips. His gaze snags there and he thinks that if he goes through with it, he might have to kiss those lips, chapped and pink. He looks away. Pretending to date Keith means doing the same things as if he were actually dating him, means a casual arm around his waist, means a hand in his own. It means he’ll have to talk about his roommate of three years like he’s the absolute love of Lance’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finally, the silence breaks. “We </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>use a microwave,” says Keith, and the fact that he’s even mildly okay with this, with acting like Lance’s boyfriend, makes the whole world turn onto its head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says, mildly stunned. “So the pizza doesn’t get cold.” And he realizes then, that even though this is probably a terrible idea for any friendship, he can’t just say no to Keith. He presses his hands tightly together so they don’t fidget and continues. “I’m down. I mean, I’m totally willing to do this if you are too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith coughs into his box. “You are?” Lance nods. “Okay, uh, me too, then. I’m down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Lance says, and then manages to stuff almost an entire slice into his mouth. He’s going to have to pretend to date his roommate now. Alright. He’s going to pretend to </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> his roommate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going to have to pretend to date </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wonderful! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is fine.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Round One.</p><p>Clock ticking. Lights bright. Keith feels the eyes of strangers crawling over him, already making their assumptions. Six couples, plus two very fidgety boys fill the set. Keith stares back at the others, but understands he doesn’t have to study the group with the same level of scrutiny that they do. He knows who the counterfeit is.</p><p>“Does everyone know their partner’s parents’ names?” someone tucked to the far left asks.</p><p>Beside him, Lance pipes up, ticking off on his fingers as he goes. “Yeah uh, Krolia, Keith’s mom, super cool, total badass. His dad, Tex. Could probably survive on his own in the wilderness for a decade or two.”</p><p>Tex. As in. . . <em> Texas? </em> Keith gives him the side-eye, but won’t even try to correct him. Not like anyone here knows the difference anyway.</p><p>Next question.</p><p>“What’s one of like, your biggest fights you have?”</p><p>“Keith never tells me when he needs help.”</p><p>“That’s not fair,” Keith counters, turning sharply to look at Lance, the onlooking crowd and cameras momentarily shoved to the fringes of his awareness. His brows draw into a stubborn line. Knows it’s probably true. But he’s not going to admit it, is he? <em> Especially </em> not on camera. “What about how ridiculously competitive you get? Or your awful taste in movies? How is <em> that </em> our biggest fight?”</p><p>Lance’s hand is feather light at his waist. The briefest of touches before he pulls back, and it feels jittery. “Uh, because I want to take care of you, you dork? And you don’t exactly make it easy?”</p><p>This admission gains a few coos from the others. Hearing that Lance <em> wants to take care of him, </em> because isn’t it sweet? The best part is they seem to believe him.</p><p>Keith’s eyes dart away, because looking at that face all soft n sincere like that, he almost believes it too.</p><hr/><p>On a day free of any scheduled class, more often than not, Keith will sink into the small space of four walls, two beds, his desk, and quiet thoughts. It’s a comfort to let the world be so small, so familiar. The limbs of the sugar maple outside the window are now bare, save a stubborn few leaves. They shiver in the wind. Keith shivers with them.</p><p>A chime. A text, that lights up his phone. The lock screen is a picture from last year, when Lance got his hands on Keith’s phone, and sweet talked him into taking a couple selfies. Keith kept them. Still makes the corner of his mouth itch with a smile when he remembers.</p><p>
  <em> the worst: prof iverson gave us too much homework </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the worst: again </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the worst: ur not still working on that essay r u? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: yep just finished second draft </em>
</p><p>Sunlight is already dimming, even at this hour. Makes the document opened on his laptop glow, in clean paragraphs and neat punctuation.</p><p>
  <em> the worst: keeeeeeeith </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the worst: you better not be in that room when i get back </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: i haven’t been here all day, i did laundry too </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the worst: that doesn’t even count </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the worst: you haven’t left the building </em>
</p><p>This reminds Keith the loads he put in the dryer earlier should be ready by now. He lumbers from his chair, and gets to stretch his legs on the stairs. Won’t be much fun lugging all that laundry seven flights, though.</p><p>Before Keith never payed attention to colors when doing the washing. But now, he has a roommate that’s picky about keeping everything nice and bright. When the clothes come out of the dryer, he savors the heat seeping into his hands. Sorts through them, between his clothes that are mostly dark, and Lance’s that are mostly light, often blue. A ritual that has become near muscle memory now.</p><p>When he glances back at his phone, there is another message, but it isn’t from Lance.</p><p>
  <em> Shiro: Hey I bumped into Pidge earlier and she said something about you and Lance entering a contest together? You really think that’s a good idea, the whole pretending to be a couple thing?? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: why shouldn’t we do it? </em>
</p><p>He types this, knowing full well what Shiro means.</p><p>It brings back an ugly swell of memories. Freshman year. Pretty shitty all around, but one thing Keith certainly remembers, is an abundance of angst over his <em> maybe </em> crush on his new roommate. Was it a crush <em> really </em>? Was he just confused? It was quite the rollercoaster, if you can call inner turmoil and emotional whiplash fun. Shiro was there to help Keith endure the worst of it. Just to be there, to listen, and give advice.</p><p>But that was years back. Not like it should be a problem now. Right? Now, Keith washes Lance’s stinky socks, sees how cluttered he leaves the bathroom sink, has sat through the same dreadful films at his insistence a dozen times, knows what an ass Lance can be when he gets competitive. They’ve had their scraps, know how well their personalities clash at times. The rose tinted glasses came off ages ago.</p><p>Besides, it hadn’t taken long for Keith to pick up on the fact Lance’s interest more often than not took, ahem, a <em> different </em> avenue. A straighter one.</p><p>
  <em> Shiro: Just be careful k? </em>
</p><p>Keith gathers up all his things, both bags slung across his shoulder, and can’t help the tiny fissure of doubt that spreads through him. What if Shiro’s right? What if this really is a bad idea? Even as he heads out for his room, it goes back and forth in his head. So wound up, so forgetting of his surroundings, that when he crosses by the front lobby, he almost misses the familiar face swiping into the building.</p><p>Lance spots Keith right away, though. Jogs to catch up, and rubs his hands together vigorously. “Man it’s frigid out. But I guess you wouldn’t know, too busy being a recluse and all that.”</p><p>“I was relaxing.”</p><p>“Writing essays, doing laundry. Throw in a face mask and you’re practically at the spa already.”</p><p>Keith grunts.</p><p>“Here, give me that,” Lance says, and takes one of the bags which lightens Keith’s burden significantly.</p><p>“Uh, thanks.”</p><p>Keith trips up, makes an error. For some reason, his glance sticks longer than it should at Lance’s smile.  How his cheeks are all rosy from the wind and the cold. Hair a bit tussled. Keith’s heart, traitorous as it is, gives an odd flutter. Just nerves. Nothing more, he’s sure.</p><p>“So I was thinking about that contest,” Keith begins, and keeps his head down, fastened to his shoes as they take the stairs. “What if we go through all that trouble, just to lose?”</p><p>“Fair point. But we won’t know unless we try?”</p><p>Try and make a roomful of strangers believe them. Believe them when they say they’re wild about each other. Believe them when they touch, when they hold hands, when they look at each other like they were the one to hang the moon in the sky.</p><p>They’ve reached their room now, and Lance flicks the switch on with an elbow. Kicks off his shoes, and dumps the laundry from the bag he carried, all onto his bed. “Hey, y’know if you’re having second thoughts, it’s not too late to back out.”</p><p>“I wasn’t trying to back out of anything,” Keith says with a huff.</p><p>Lance shoots him a half smile. “Alright, I get it. Mr. Tough guy doesn’t turn tail, huh? How big and brave you are.”</p><p>Keith’s reply comes in the form of a wadded up sock hurled across the room. It lands squarely between Lance’s shoulder blades, and rolls from sight under the bed.</p><p>Indignant, Lance yelps. “Hey!”</p><p>There’s little time to duck for cover before Keith finds himself pelted with similar items, socks, boxers, a glove. In moments their entire room is littered black and blue with laundry, and will certainly need to be sorted again. When he’s exhausted the contents of his bag, Keith finds a grip on his pillow and pitches that too. Big mistake.</p><p>When it comes to pillow fights, Keith never wins. Lance has an edge over him, in that growing up with a huge family he has miles of experience more, not to mention those arms.</p><p><em> “Oof,” </em> Keith grunts, and throws up his hands to shield himself when Lance comes in for the final blow. A sharp swoop to his shoulder that jars him. Not enough to knock him off his feet, but Keith can’t help but be a bit dramatic, as the silliness of it all has made him light, almost giddy, and falls backward into his bed. He clutches his chest and groans. “You got me.”</p><p>The pillow lands with a muffled <em> plop </em> on his stomach, when Lance drops it. Keith catches the low chuckle that escapes as the other drifts away, a sound that makes the room feel warmer, softer. It snags strangely in Keith’s chest.</p><p>“Loser has to clean up this mess,” Lance says, and makes a dramatic sweeping gesture at everything.</p><p>“But Lance, I did <em> laundry </em> for you.”</p><p>“So does my mama, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return. Except for hugs and kisses.” Lance’s grin is blinding, as his arms spread outward. “So I guess it’s your choice, Kogane. You either get to clean this room or get your dose of Lancey-Lance hugs.”</p><p>“Nooo-” Keith rolls over, and hides his face behind the pillow, muffling his groan.</p><p>“Yup, this is gonna be a problem,” he hears Lance say. “I should’ve known.”</p><p>“What’s <em> that </em>supposed to mean?”</p><p>Lance stoops briefly to collect one of his favorite tees off the floor.  “It’s just, we’ve gotta convince a bunch of strangers we’re into each other. And your aversion to affection is worse than a moody cat.”</p><p>Keith pouts. “So?”</p><p>“So, maybe we should practice.”</p><p>“Practice.”</p><p>Lance seems a little too occupied with shaking out the wrinkles in his shirt, and isn’t making eye contact. “Yeah like, maybe we should uh, go out. On a practice date.”</p><p><em> Why shouldn’t we, </em> Keith had told Shiro. Why shouldn’t they pretend to be a couple? Well, he may have just found the answer. He only manages a strangled <em> “what” </em> before Lance is talking again.</p><p>“I mean, maybe it’s—  whatever. Fine if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Keith removes the pillow from his face and shifts to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “I guess you have a good point.” His heart thumps strangely at the thought. Acting for a video is one thing, but just the two of them, going out. . . on a date. Practice or not, it takes an immense amount of willpower to keep his voice nonchalant. “And where were you planning on taking me?”</p><p>Lance grins, and Keith is concerned by the little glint of mischief that catches in those eyes. A look he knows all too well. “Mm. Not telling. It’ll be a surprise.”</p><p>Great. Somehow on top of <em> everything </em> else, Keith has now been roped into a “practice” date with his roommate, his maybe ex crush. And it’s a surprise.</p><p>Keith hates surprises.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>we should be updating on mondays, so keep an eye out for the next chapter.<br/>thanks so much for reading everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It must be Lance’s fault. Keith can’t think of any other explanation. So he blames it all on Lance, with his quick smile and sunny charisma that they weren’t the first pair voted out of this strange competition. Keith has fallen prey to these same charms many a time. It’s the reason they’re here in the first place, really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl with the short blonde pixie cut and a spattering of freckles across her cheeks asks the next question. “Should we go around and say what made us realize we liked our partner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air in Keith’s lungs catches a bit, but he feels the words burning, already hot on his tongue. He can’t say the whole truth probably, but something close enough it isn’t a lie. Close enough, he feels heat inch over his cheeks. “You don’t need to know Lance long to see how. . . he just lights up a room when he’s there. Makes you feel that way too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably sounds corny. Probably sounds like he’s making it up. Keith wishes he was, so he didn’t have to feel this way. He wishes it really was pretend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it took me a while, but eventually I realized, he makes me happier than. . . anyone. I think. That’s when I knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone else has such nice stories. Some embarrassing, some funny. And just the way they all look at one another when they remember makes Keith feel a bit sick. The lights are just a bit too bright, too warm. Lance stands so handsome, in his favorite jacket, hair swept just right. Just a bit too bright, too warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith feels dense. That it took a gameshow to make him realize that all the reasons that made him soft for Lance in the beginning haven’t changed at all.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Squeals, giggles, and the muffled sound of splashing drift in the air, along with a vaguely fishy smell. “So”, Lance says, pulling Keith up to the ticket counter, “what do you think?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d purposefully taken them on the scenic route to get here, getting off the bus a couple blocks away and walking them around the side of the aquarium where the LED sign couldn’t be seen. Lance couldn’t help but drag out the mystery as long as possible. Now, Keith takes all this in as they feed through the long line, observing the plastic statues of penguins and sharks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never been to an aquarium before,” he confesses. “So I'd say you’re off to a pretty good start already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance grins and tugs him through to the security gate, swiping his student ID for discount tickets. He pays for Keith’s too, despite his protests, and then in they flow, letting the crowd carry them inside the small park. There are four buildings in a semi-circle around the clearing, at the center of which is a fountain where various plastic seagulls rest on top of, and a plastic polar bear leans against. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance leads them closer to it so they’re out of the way of the crowd and lets go of Keith’s wrist. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants before pulling a folded map from his back pocket, trying to calm the nervous fluttering of his heart. “Alright, there are three main areas to check out: the Chill Zone, the Pit, and the Ray Area. I was thinking we could check out two of them first, grab lunch, then spend however long we want at the last place before heading back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words fog in front of him a little. Keith pulls his beanie further down his head. “Yeah, sounds good. We can figure out a story and hash out details during lunch and practice— couple-y things at the places.” He blows his bangs out of his face. “What are each of the zones like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance leans over to point out the different areas on his map. “Chill Zone has animals like penguins and like, arctic foxes I think? I’m pretty sure they had a polar bear cub born within the last few months, but if we want a look we should go there pretty early on, before it gets crowded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s go there first,” Keith decides, and grabs Lance’s elbow to pull him along. “Tell me about the other stuff while we’re walking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Ray Area is like sharks and manta rays and stingrays, a.k.a. my favorite part of this place,” he says, and switches the map to one hand so he can slide his arm up and link his fingers with Keith’s glove clad ones. Keith stumbles slightly and looks back at him. “Figure we need to practice holding hands,” he explains with a shrug and a smile, talking around the weird nervous block in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Keith says, looking forward again. And then, after a brief pause. “We can go to the sharks next.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awesome. So that leaves the Pit for last. That’s like, lobsters and jellyfish and glow in the dark stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith nods like he heard what Lance said, then brings them to a stop in front of a small crowd. The polar bear attraction, front and center and the pride of the aquarium, even though the animals (along with most of the others in the arctic exhibits) weren’t even fish. The area is simply a wall of thick glass panels, situated in a clearing a few steps down from the rest of the building. From floor to halfway up the walls is underwater, with the rest of the panel showing above land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance leads them to the back of the crowd, away from the windows and to a series of benches a few feet behind the crowd. Keith raises an eyebrow at him. Lance ignores that and shifts the position of their hands so that rather than intertwined fingers, he’s gently holding Keith’s knuckles like he’s about to kiss them. He raises their joined hands towards the bench. Keith gets the memo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” he says, and tries to shove Lance back with a startled laugh. “You’re so embarrassing, I can’t even take you out in public.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Shorty, you’ll be able to see over all the adults’ heads this way!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith tries to shove him again, hands still linked the same way, and Lance side steps so the other falls onto his chest instead. “I hate you,” Keith says, “I feel sorry for the next person you actually date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get on the bench, coward,” Lance says fondly, and Keith finally climbs onto it. It’s a single fluid step, but the pink in his cheeks and trembling of his fingers in Lance’s own betrays his embarrassment. He rubs the knuckles with his thumb in an absent minded, soothing gesture. “I’ve come here with Hunk pretty often since freshman year and the benches are always the best seat in the house. Can you see the baby?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith squeezes his hand. “Yeah, I can. It’s pretty—” The entire crowd gasps in sync. “Lance, it fell off its mom, it’s so cute. Get up here!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance listens and scrambles up on the bench next to Keith, and sure enough, the bear cub is trying to climb onto it’s lounging mother’s belly and failing spectacularly. Everytime it gets part way up and inevitably tumbles back down, the crowd gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay to watch the bears until enough people gather that even the benches are full. Lance takes Keith’s hand again to help him down. Wandering around the building, they look at the the other exhibits. A penguin attraction catches their eye, so they stop to watch as someone in a wetsuit encourages the birds to swim through colorful hula hoops. Lance can’t help but be secretly pleased, seeing that Keith is enjoying himself. Even holding hands feels easier, less awkward as time goes on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually they find their way to Lance’s favorite part of the park. There is a lower concentration of people, as they walk through the glass tunnels of sharks. As a large one, sleek with black tipped fins slips by right over their heads, Keith tightens his grip on Lance’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance raises his other hand and wiggles his fingers. “Don’t worry my love, I’ll protect you from all the</span>
  <em>
    <span> scaaary</span>
  </em>
  <span> sharks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, my hero. What would I do without you?” Keith says, rolling his eyes and tugging Lance forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A while back, he took his gloves off and stuffed them into his pockets, so Lance can feel the callouses against his own palm. He hopes his own hand isn’t as sweaty as he thinks. “Not die, probably. The odds of a shark attacking you are like, one in over three million. Humans kill way more sharks than the other way around. So I guess you could say….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say it,” Keith warns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hunter has become. . . </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hunted.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you like this.” Keith looks up through the glass, stubbornly fighting a smile. Lance can tell he’s close to giving in. “Now I know why you brought me to an aquarium, just so you could assault me with your weird fish facts and awful movie quotes. Way to impress, McClain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it working?” Lance asks, and tugs pointedly at their joined hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith hums like he’s thinking on it, but never answers. “That reminds me,” he says after a while. “We should probably go over boundaries and stuff, just so we’re on the same page.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance nods in agreement. “I’m cool with this, obviously.” He holds their hands up between them. “Can I put my arm around you, or on your waist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s fine I think. Do you want to….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Lance says, and untangles their hands so he can lean Keith on his shoulder and rest his hand on the small of the other’s back. “Is this okay? Or how about—” He slides his hand around to firmly settle on Keith’s hip and bring him even closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is so unnatural,” Keith says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean it’s supernatural, right? I know, my touch has that effect.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith elbows him then starts walking forward to presumably see how it feels in motion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s awkward at first, but eventually they get the hang of it as they take a loop around the stingrays, hips bumping as they walk. Lance feel hyper aware of every place they touch, and he keeps watching the sight of his own fingers wrapped around Keith. He really can’t say he hates the contact. When they stop in front of a lemon shark exhibit, Lance’s hand naturally slides down until he has a thumb hooked into Keith’s back pocket and the rest of his fingers drumming high on his thigh. His heart stutters when Keith makes a high, brief noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Lance says, making a move to take his hand away, “Is that no good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, uhm, it’s fine,” comes the response, and Lance aborts his motion and carefully sets his hand back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So uhm, any other PDA we gotta’ talk about? I’m okay with, geez, pretty much everything I guess?” Lance laughs, but he feels jittery and embarrassed at his own words for some undecipherable reason. This is Keith, his roommate and friend, he shouldn’t be nervous around him. He’s always been touchy-feely with his friends after all, has fallen asleep cuddled with Hunk and squeezed into small chairs with Pidge. This shouldn’t be any different, even if they might even have to do certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> things. And on cue, Keith asks:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about kissing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Lance definitely knew this was coming so why do even the words send a rush of butterflies to his stomach?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay with kissing me,” Keith rephrases, and he’s stubbornly refusing to look at Lance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, totally. I mean, I’m down to kiss you. For the game.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool. I’m okay with it too, if we really have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should—” Lance slams his mouth shut. He’d been about to ask if they should practice, but that feels like a breach of boundaries. And it’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Who wants to kiss their friend unless they absolutely have to, and it’s not like they absolutely know a kiss is in store for the game. If they do, they can improvise on the spot, it shouldn’t be that hard. After all, it was only a kiss.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s never been one for PDA. Just doesn’t come naturally for him. Feels stiff, feels off. So when someone suggests that the couples kiss, he feels it in his joints. Like they need a good oiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re last in line, so Keith just has to stand still. Waiting. Humming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When their turn finally comes, he can’t help how it feels like being observed under a microscope. If ever Keith did have feelings, ever did wish one day to kiss Lance, never once did he imagine their first would be on camera for millions to see, only to know it was fake. That it was all for the prize.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s hands are like sure tethers at his waist. Ground him. He’s always known Lance is taller, but now it is a concrete thing, as he reaches up, as his friend sweeps down. They meet in the middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not exactly what he imagined it’d be like, kissing Lance. But at the same time, it’s precisely everything he knew it would. This rush shoots to his hands, hands that snag on the front of Lance’s jacket. This rush curls through him, like he’s glowing, bright for just a small moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it’s all because of him. Lance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just, Lance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they break, Keith looks away, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Might seem suspect. But he can’t help it. Because he’s afraid if he looks Lance in the eye, he’ll be able to see it. Be able to see that Keith meant what he said, means more than that too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The flicker of light ebbs, begins to fade. Keith clutches at it, at the thing that makes everything bright. Like it’s something he can save, can remember. Like the selfie on his lockscreen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s gotta tell Lance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When this is all over, win or lose, Keith’s gotta tell his roommate and friend what this feeling is. That it’s living inside him, and it’s making a home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“. . . And it took me a while, but eventually I realized, he makes me happier than. . . anyone. I think. That’s when I knew.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Lunch goes by with the same, slightly awkward air as talking about kissing had gone. Lance is aware of Keith in a way he hasn’t been before, like he wants to watch him as much as possible but feels like he shouldn’t get caught. Everytime their feet brush under the table he feels the heat spread through his entire leg, and jolts like he’s been burned. Keith sends him a few odd looks but doesn’t say anything, and soon they’re on their way to the last location.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Pit is pretty aptly named, considering they have to descend a staircase to get to the most interesting stuff. They go through a tunnel where spidery animals crawl over their heads and below their feet, looking like ghostly white cray-fish. Down the hall there are walls of bioluminescent algae, and an entire black light room with tanks of glowing jellyfish. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drift through the room slowly, putting hands up to glowing tanks and watching the patterns shift like water over their skin. Lance tries to think of a joke, but everytime he catches sight of Keith in this purple-black light, of the rare awed smile and glittering eyes, his breath. He’s struck speechless not by the pretty sights around him but by his friend. They haven’t been holding hands, but now, everytime their knuckles brush or bump, he feels a jolt like lightning to reach and grab that hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart beats hard in his chest. Keith points to something across the room and suddenly he’s faced with the reality that all around them are real couples on dates, cuddling each other and watching the floating cnidaria all around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance is struck with the sudden thought that this is romantic, incredibly romantic, the type of place someone would want to go with their real partner. He’s been inside here a few times before but he’s never really thought about it the same way. He’d thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, Keith would like that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because the glowing phytoplankton looked like stars and Keith loves space, but he’d never thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>romantic.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d never thought of Keith and romance in the same sentence before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But now he’s wondering if maybe he should have been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s always been a constant presence in his life, from little things like doing his laundry to walking halfway across campus to deliver his forgotten student ID. Keith gets under his skin and riles him up in a way he usually likes, but he’s always been a ride or die friend, and is exceptionally sweet to Lance. He listens to his stories about his family when Lance is homesick, and helps him manage his stress during exams. He’s kind of perfect, Lance thinks. Keith is perfect in a way that even when it annoys him, he loves it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Has he really been this stupid all along, to miss what’s always been right under his nose? How has he lived so long not knowing how he felt?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, now that he knows, he’s not going to miss a second from here on out. Lance watches Keith while he takes in the scene, seeing the way he leans close enough to the glass that his nose is nearly touching it, how he follows the path of a floating jellyfish with a finger. Inevitably, Keith notices his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith flushes under his gaze, turns and asks, “What are you thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance responds, “Nothing,” but what he means is: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I really like you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the final chapter! a huge thank you to everyone for reading or who left kudos and comments!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Round three and they’re still in the game. Lance is thinking that they actually might be able to pull this off, especially since </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> round seemed to be the real tough spot. He tries not to think too hard about the kiss, since he knows it was just for show. But he realized his feelings so recently that it stands out starkly in his mind, burns hot on his tongue. He needs to stop thinking he has a chance, otherwise he’ll fall like Icarus, flying too close to the sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s say something that only your partner might know about you, like an intimate detail,” someone suggests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, perfect. A round of embarrassing answers to take his mind off romance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The couples go around and answer with things as simple as singing in the shower (normal, Lance does this too) to Nyma responding that her boyfriend will </span>
  <em>
    <span>pick at his toe and then bite his fingernails </span>
  </em>
  <span>(abnormal, Lance definitely does not do that, Nyma made a serious downgrade from when she briefly dated him freshman year). It comes around to them and while Lance racks his brain, Keith says, “He always organizes his trail mix before he eats it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it moves on to the next pair, Lance leans in to whisper, “I totally thought you were gonna’ go for something more embarrassing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Keith replies, voice soft, “and miss the chance to blackmail you in the future?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next question is a prompt to say something deep to their partner. As couples go around answering the question, they all have detailed answers about how thankful they are for their partners or how they’ve grown. When it’s their turn, Lance figures it’s better to stick as close to the truth as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keith,” he starts, holding his hands in his own, and feeling like this is a strange imitation of wedding vows. His palms feel sweaty and his throat is suddenly dry. “I’m really happy we met. I really don’t know what I’d do without you. You were the biggest help with my homesickness when I first moved here for college, and even past that you’ve always been by my side.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All of this is true, and why they’ve become so much more than just roommates these past few years. Even so, Lance doesn’t know why it took so long for him to realize that he liked Keith. Keith’s always the first person he thinks about when he sees something cool, or has a snack he wants to share. It’s always been the two of them for him, now more than ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keeping his gaze steady and locked with Keith’s is one of the hardest things he’s had to do, but he forces himself. “No matter what we do, as long as we’re together, we got it. Lance and Keith against the world, right?.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith smiles at that, the corners of his mouth curled up just a little. He still looks shaky when he starts talking though. “Im thankful for meeting you too, Lance.  You were one of my closest friends. You’ve grounded me, and sort of— centered me. You’re… one of my most important people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance breaks his gaze first. He pulls Keith in for a hug and crushes them together, feeling Keith grip even harder at himself. When they let go and return to their places, he can feel the absence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance barely pays attention until the end of the round. Another couple gets voted out, and surprisingly enough, it's not them. Lance was sure his speech wasn’t personal or romantic enough, but apparently his words managed to convey his genuine feelings. Apparently everything they did the whole game conveyed sincerity, since when it came time to decide whether to continue the game, ending was unanimous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If the lights turn red, that means the moles are still in and they win the money. If the lights turn green, that means you all win,” someone from offset explains. Lance watches as everyone around them tenses, straining to hold in his surprise and disbelief, giving Keith’s wrist a tight squeeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights turn red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Haggar, a short, older woman says. Her husband next to her looks comically, explosively angry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was you, wasn’t it,” someone who’s name Lance hadn’t managed to catch yells, pointing at Nyma, who gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was not,” she insists. “Maybe it was you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is a herculean effort for Lance to keep his face straight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, the laughter on and off set dies off, and the director manages to get everyone to be quiet. The couples who were voted off earlier are herded back onto set and everyone is made to stand in a line. “May the moles please step forward,” the person narrating asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance exchanges a look with Keith and suddenly he can't hold in his smile anymore. In sync, they both step forward. Outrage explodes around them. They won.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>You’d think they were going shopping for a puppy or something, and not just a microwave. Lance pushes the cart, nearly bouncing on his feet, talking a mile a minute. “I know I’m being dramatic, or whatever, but this is totally gonna be life changing! Just think. No more cold pizza, we can pop popcorn on movie nights, and y’know Pidge will probably be hanging around more if we have food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s always liked when he gets this way. Like the week leading up to break because Lance knows he’ll be going home to see his family, or when he’s studied hard for an exam and done well on it, or everytime Hunk surprises him with homemade goodies like cookies or muffins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeing Lance happy makes him happy too. Can’t be helped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they reach the kitchen appliance aisle, Keith knows what he should be focused on. That they came here to actually accomplish something. But he catches himself looking at that 100 watt smile, a moth to a flame. The way brows furrow as Lance taps a finger at his bottom lip in deep thought is nothing less than endearing. Quickly ruling out anything too big and bulky for their dorm room, Lance drums fingers against the box of an appliance that comes in fire engine red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm. How do you feel about this color?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, the only color Keith is thinking of right now is the blue in eyes looking back at him. A color he feels rather fond of. His jaw is slack for an answer, and when he’s not immediately enthusiastic about the red, Lance himself dismisses the idea as quickly as he brought it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. We don’t need something that flashy. Just something that’ll get the job done. Something nice and dependable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith's phone hums from his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro: Did you do It yet?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slips his phone back out of sight, without answering. Glances up and down the shelves, at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretending</span>
  </em>
  <span> to look. “I don't know a whole lot about microwaves,” Keith mumbles. “But I'm sure whatever we get will be fine. All we need it for is popcorn and ramen, and heating up leftovers. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't suck the magic out of this, man. We’re making an investment here, it’s like we’re getting a baby!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith shifts closer. Close enough, he could reach out and take Lance's hand if he wanted. He wants to, can imagine just what it might feel like, but he doesn't. Just lets his arms stay tucked stiffly at his sides. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was being insensitive. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>such</span>
  </em>
  <span> a momentous moment. . . I just.” He forces his voice higher, to crack with mock emotion. “Sorry, I’ll try and keep it together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both try and fail to hide smiles. Lance is such a dork, and Keith loves that about him. He feels the rush of a raw, wild adrenaline when he remembers what he’s about to do. Because for better or for worse, Keith is going to ask his roommate out on a real, non fake date.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Costco isn't the most romantic spot. Maybe this moment isn't the most perfect of moments. Maybe Lance will never look at Keith that way, ever. Somehow, these maybes all feel small. Because Lance is here. Too bright, too brilliant to ignore. Like the stars on a clear night. Keith wants to get closer, wants to bask in the light. Would spend countless nights in study, mapping these stars until he knows them like the back of his own hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Lance isn't looking, he slips out his phone once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: not yet. waiting for the right moment.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it seems the right moment is more difficult to find than he thought it might. If it’s not now, or after they’ve settled on which microwave to get, or when they check out, or even while they’re waiting for their Lyft, then when is it? Is there really such a thing as “the right moment”?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten bucks says the elevator’s down and you havta carry that thing up the steps,” Lance says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith rolls his eyes, and shifts his grip on the hefty box as he waits for Lance to swipe them into their building. “And just why should</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>be the one to carry it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an icy wind that comes at their backs, and chases them both as they step inside. Maybe if they get their shiny new appliance set up, they can have a cup of hot tea together. Maybe when they’re warm again, snuggled into the quiet of this autumn afternoon, Keith will find the moment he’s been waiting for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re probably right,” Lance says. “I should carry it. You’d just drop it, and then this whole thing would have been for nothing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith angles away from those long, grabby arms. “I’m not going to drop it, Lance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Lance presses the button for the elevator, the doors slide open with a flat chime. It would seem to be in working order after all. Keith doesn’t comment, only shoots a pointed look at the other before he steps in. Silence falls between them, after the doors shut and they’re on their way up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There aren’t many excuses not to look at each other, but Keith sure tries his hardest to find each and every one. His eyes end up fastened to the shifting number above the door, letting them know they’ve made it to the fourth floor. And then, all at once, the elevator gives a lurch. A strained sound catches in their ears, and everything stops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s gaze slides over the same time Keith looks at him and says, “I’m not sure either of us wins the bet now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of the floor or door buttons respond when Lance reaches out to the panel, and he finally presses the call button to get ahold of a technician, who assures them they'll be out in a few jiffies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Lance looks doubtfully over his shoulder. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In reply, Keith merely sets the microwave down in the middle of the floor. Lance slumps with his shoulder against the wall, and Keith eases into a similar stance opposite him with folded arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course Shiro would message him now. But it's a good excuse not to make awkward eye contact with Lance as well as fill the quiet, so he can't help but feel a sliver of gratitude as he slides his phone out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro: Well? Did you ask him yet??</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: no</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: but we're sort of stuck in our elevator so</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: probably not the best time</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro: R you 2 alone</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shiro: Well what else are you going to do while you both wait?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Me: wouldn't you like to know ;)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know I was just thinking," Lance says, and shrugs at the box sitting between them. "What are we gonna do with this baby when we graduate and have to move out of the dorms?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith lets the toe of his shoe tap thoughtfully against the corner of cardboard. “I mean, one of us should take it, it’s not like we can just split it in half. Maybe you should get it. The contest was probably tougher for you than me, so it makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfft. What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just that, I know you’re not into guys, so acting was probably harder for you than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was obviously harder for you,” Lance interjects, “having to do all that PDA and saying all that lovey dovey stuff. And besides, that’s not even true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith’s hands grow tighter around his now forgotten phone. While he knows they won’t run out of oxygen stuck here in the elevator, somehow his lungs still stutter and strain to keep up. “What do you mean it’s not true?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Lance’s head tilts ever so slightly, and Keith can’t help but feel trapped in the small compartment, with nowhere to hide. “I mean, it’s not true I’m not into guys. Why would you think that? I’ve dated guys before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I. . . I dunno. I just figured.” There is a heat that spills through Keith’s body, that lingers in his ears, at his cheeks. Because it seems he’s found his moment. Because maybe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> he has a chance after all. “So you’re telling me after all these years you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> straight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As in, would date a guy again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If the right person came along, then yeah.” Lance bites his lip, like he might have said something more, but he doesn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith didn’t know his heart could beat this fast, didn’t know he could feel so happy and so awful all at once, all tangled up inside. “Would you. . .”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers Lance buying him cherry red cough drops that time he had a bad cough over finals, remembers their movies nights with spilled popcorn and shoulders brushing, remembers how Lance helped him up on the bench at the polar bear exhibit so he could see the little baby bear, how they held hands nearly that whole day. Keith wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> of it. All of it. Of Lance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you ever uh, wanna go on a date. . . with me?” Keith awkwardly clears his throat. “Like, a real one. Not a fake one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The one downside to this, is that if Lance turns him down, Keith is stuck here until the technician finally gets them moving again. Trapped in this little cubicle with nothing but Lance, their microwave, and his own embarrassment. Not to mention after, they’ll still be roommates. Keith swallows thickly, and for a moment he wishes he could take it all back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s eyes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wrinkle at the corners. A look that strikes deeply in Keith’s chest, for how often he’s seen it. “Guess our date with the fishes really impressed you, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Keith stubbornly looks away, and his hands find a deep home in his pockets. “I didn’t mean it like a joke. I’m serious. But it’s fine, I get if you don’t see me that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance takes a deliberate step closer. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to poke fun at you. I just had no idea. Who would’ve thought a silly competition would’ve made us both realize</span>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like you, Keith. I think.” Lance is much closer now, and one of his hands sends a jolt up Keith’s arm, tugging a gloved hand gently out of hiding. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize sooner,” he says, as he laces their fingers together. It was strange when they held hands before for practice, but now it’s almost surreal. Because it’s not fake. Lance actually wants to hold his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh. Like you too. And I’ve known for—” Keith’s voice drops to a mumble. “An embarrassing amount of time, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance’s smile is bright, softening Keith’s nerves a bit. “You know, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lance,” he warns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swaying their arms between them, Lance leans a fraction closer.  “You know it would be an awful shame to put all this waiting around time to waste. A very reliable source told me you’re a pretty good kisser.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pulse beneath Keith’s skin runs faster as the other boy inches forward. His gaze flickers between beautiful blue eyes and soft lips. And when they’re a hair's breadth away from meeting in the middle, the elevator suddenly jostles under their feet, and begins to move again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Lance pouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A breathless laughter tumbles out of Keith, and fills the small space. Pressing up onto tip toe, he kisses Lance with a smile still curving his mouth. It only lasts a moment, as long as it takes them to travel from floor 5 to 6, but it leaves him a bit gooey, a little weak in the knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this date thing,” Lance says. “Where are you taking me, hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be a surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you tell me, I’ll give you another kiss,” Lance says, and wiggles his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” Keith’s smile widens, and knows this will drive Lance bananas the same way he gets around his birthday. Pidge is quite merciless in her super secret party planning. “No deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Keith barely even hears the chime when they reach their floor and the doors part. Too caught up in this feeling, like he’s glowing all the way from his toes to his fingers still clasped in Lance’s hand. Tangled up in everything that makes Lance </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lance.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Friend, roommate, partner in crime, and something else now, it seems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunate they have to stop holding hands so Keith can carry the microwave to their room. But Lance falls into step close to his side, shoulders bumping gently as they make their way down the hall. And he’s got that look on his face again. The same look Keith kept seeing at the aquarium. Like Lance is looking at him and seeing stars. And maybe for a sliver of a moment, Keith feels like one too.</span>
</p>
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